Post by Alianora Mhyre Calvey on Jun 30, 2007 20:17:39 GMT -6
Evening of the first day of the Midwinter Festival.
Alia couldn't take it anymore. She needed to get away, away from all of this. Away from everything, all of the burdens this world had heaped upon her shoulders. Face clouded slightly, she suddenly brushed past her own mother, graceful and swift steps taking her out through the door into the sunlight, where it cast a blanket on her, a hint of warmth and comfort in a harsh cold world.
To the stable, she went, eyes for only one horse. It wasn't the light dapple grey Percheron mare; their carthorse. It wasn't Eamonn's Davin, a fine bay beast of Irish Draught and Cleveland Bay blood. A majestic Friesian snorted, tossing her head with her eyes wide at Alia's sudden appearance, long wavy forelock sent flying about to fall haphazardly over her eyes. Alia stepped forward, gently stroking the black mare's nose, her skin feeling like crushed velvet, speaking in a low, soothing voice. She grasped the halter and lead the horse out, before throwing on a small saddle and a bride, her fingers flying over the buckles in her hurry to get away from everything she knew, her hands nearly trembling, but her work thorough.
Throwing herself on the mare's back, she righted herself, gathered the reins quickly, and put her heels to the mare's sides, urging the striking black horse into a canter, her extremely long mane flying into Alia's face, stinging as it snapped like a hundred miniature whips. Ignoring the smarts she continued receiving, she let Char extend herself into a gallop, feeling the rush of power between her legs and losing herself in it. Past the smithy, the larger mill, cutting through the fields to skirt along the forest edge. Onward, onward.
Char was glad to have her head, for she'd only recently come into the possession of the Calvey's, when her owner never showed up to retrieve her after having new shoes put on. The horse had been the pride and joy of an elderly man who'd bred her, but he'd died sometime that day, in his house, and his heartbroken old wife gave the horse to Alia's family. Mainly her brother, as blacksmith, but he was rather busy with his own horse. And, sure Alia had work to do with her own horse, but this Char was too wonderful for her to just forget her.
The sun was beginning to set, light of gold cast at horizontal angles as the sky began to display a beautiful array of colours. Yellow and shining gold, orange, bright pinks and soft purples, crimson red, which soon faded into purple and then a peaceful blue. There was still plenty of light to see by, but it'd soon disappear as night fell, the sky blanketed in stars.
And on the horse of darkness and shadow, Alia continued to ride swiftly, though she'd slowed Char to a canter, racing naught but the wind as they struggled to put all time and space behind them. The forest continued to flash by to their right, and up ahead, just up ahead, was the edge of all things. The edge of her world. It was the border between Cydonia and their enemy, and from this long, high cliff, one could look down on the other nation's lands, and see out for many miles towards the horizon. She reined in Char gently, surprised at how light the mare's mouth was, and eased her towards the edge to watch the colours meld and shift in the sky, bright clouds of pure, radiant white bathed in their glow.
Alia couldn't take it anymore. She needed to get away, away from all of this. Away from everything, all of the burdens this world had heaped upon her shoulders. Face clouded slightly, she suddenly brushed past her own mother, graceful and swift steps taking her out through the door into the sunlight, where it cast a blanket on her, a hint of warmth and comfort in a harsh cold world.
To the stable, she went, eyes for only one horse. It wasn't the light dapple grey Percheron mare; their carthorse. It wasn't Eamonn's Davin, a fine bay beast of Irish Draught and Cleveland Bay blood. A majestic Friesian snorted, tossing her head with her eyes wide at Alia's sudden appearance, long wavy forelock sent flying about to fall haphazardly over her eyes. Alia stepped forward, gently stroking the black mare's nose, her skin feeling like crushed velvet, speaking in a low, soothing voice. She grasped the halter and lead the horse out, before throwing on a small saddle and a bride, her fingers flying over the buckles in her hurry to get away from everything she knew, her hands nearly trembling, but her work thorough.
Throwing herself on the mare's back, she righted herself, gathered the reins quickly, and put her heels to the mare's sides, urging the striking black horse into a canter, her extremely long mane flying into Alia's face, stinging as it snapped like a hundred miniature whips. Ignoring the smarts she continued receiving, she let Char extend herself into a gallop, feeling the rush of power between her legs and losing herself in it. Past the smithy, the larger mill, cutting through the fields to skirt along the forest edge. Onward, onward.
Char was glad to have her head, for she'd only recently come into the possession of the Calvey's, when her owner never showed up to retrieve her after having new shoes put on. The horse had been the pride and joy of an elderly man who'd bred her, but he'd died sometime that day, in his house, and his heartbroken old wife gave the horse to Alia's family. Mainly her brother, as blacksmith, but he was rather busy with his own horse. And, sure Alia had work to do with her own horse, but this Char was too wonderful for her to just forget her.
The sun was beginning to set, light of gold cast at horizontal angles as the sky began to display a beautiful array of colours. Yellow and shining gold, orange, bright pinks and soft purples, crimson red, which soon faded into purple and then a peaceful blue. There was still plenty of light to see by, but it'd soon disappear as night fell, the sky blanketed in stars.
And on the horse of darkness and shadow, Alia continued to ride swiftly, though she'd slowed Char to a canter, racing naught but the wind as they struggled to put all time and space behind them. The forest continued to flash by to their right, and up ahead, just up ahead, was the edge of all things. The edge of her world. It was the border between Cydonia and their enemy, and from this long, high cliff, one could look down on the other nation's lands, and see out for many miles towards the horizon. She reined in Char gently, surprised at how light the mare's mouth was, and eased her towards the edge to watch the colours meld and shift in the sky, bright clouds of pure, radiant white bathed in their glow.